The four teams kicked open the doors of the four rooms, where the men were disrobing. Shrieks and howls filled the air, and the men tried to cover up their flabby white bodies.
Gabby spotted Rachel and pulled down her mask just enough for Rachel to recognize her. Rachel’s eyes were as wide as saucers. Gabby whispered quickly, “Let the girls know we’re here to rescue them.”
Rachel told Diedre, “Go help the others.” Everyone was shouting and scrambling. The two staff members fled toward the nearest exits and disappeared into the night.
The women were half-clad, shaking, and crying. Rachel and Diedre assured them they would be okay.
“Come with us! Quickly!” Annie shouted.
Myra wrapped a blanket around one of the women. “Don’t be afraid. You’re going to be all right.” She helped her out to the terrace, where some of the others were waiting, all of them asking questions at the same time.
It was a cacophony of hysteria, but Annie tried to calm them down. “Please, trust us. We’re here to help you. But we don’t have a lot of time.”
Myra checked to see that all eight women were accounted for and at least partially clothed.
Isabelle ran back toward the mansion. Annie shouted, “Where are you going?”
“To get the evidence.” Isabelle ran into the house.
“What is she talking about?” Myra tried to grapple with her pearls, but they were tucked tightly under her suit.
“Darned if I know. Come on. We don’t have a lot of time.” Annie and the others ushered the girls toward the waterline. Fergus and Charles pulled the dinghies as close to the shore as possible.
Myra stood at the top of the terrace, not sure if she should go back for Isabelle, when, much to her relief, she saw Isabelle running toward her, carrying a small black briefcase.
“Hurry!” Myra waved her on and pointed to the briefcase. “What is that?”
“Evidence.” Isabelle huffed and puffed.
The two of them ran in the same direction as the others, just as the alarm started blaring, with large spotlights flooding the area. As Myra and Isabelle climbed into one of the boats, they could see the men running around on the terrace, trying to escape from the chaos. It was a sight to behold!
Pearl was way ahead of them, with an unconscious Ruffing lying on the deck of her boat.
As soon as Charles and Fergus had everyone seated safely, they opened up the throttles and hightailed it back to the yachts. It took several minutes for the questions and crying to subside. Myra was on one dinghy and Annie on the other as they explained to the women that they were no longer under the control of Daniel J. Ruffing. They were heading back to the USA.
More questions and more crying as the sisters tried to calm everyone’s nerves. Their own included.
When they arrived at the yachts, the eight “hostesses” made their way onto the La Mancha. They were shown to staterooms, where they could shower and put on a pair of soft pajamas, each with a sister to assist and comfort her.
An hour later, everyone convened in the main salon, where refreshments and food awaited.
“I am sure you have a lot of questions,” Annie began. And they certainly did.
Myra laughed. “Perhaps we should explain. Then you can ask whatever you like.”
Annie looked at Maggie. “This is your party, Maggie. You do the honors.”
Maggie’s eyes welled. She pointed to the women she knew so well. “These are my sisters. We are a team. If someone is in trouble, we try to help.” She sniffled and cleared her throat.
“Gabby and I went to journalism school together. She interned at the Washington Post, owned by our own Countess Anna Ryland de Silva.” She nodded toward Annie. “A little over a week ago, I got a strange message on my voice mail, and being a reporter with a nose for trouble, I had to figure it out.” Light giggles filled the salon. “With the help of my sisters, well, here we are.”
Some of the women blurted questions while some raised their hands.
Myra stepped in. “There is a lot we cannot divulge, but rest assured you will be okay, and you will never, ever have to deal with Daniel J. Ruffing or his cronies ever again.” Applause and tears from the group of rescued women.
Rachel was one of the first to get up and hug Myra. Myra stiffened. “Oh, I am so sorry,” Rachel apologized.
“No. No. It’s okay.” Myra took a deep breath. “Your perfume. Where did you get it?”
Rachel looked slightly embarrassed. “I always carry a small silk pouch that I tie around my waist. I keep a travel-size perfume, lipstick, and mints.”
“But the perfume. Miss Dior?” Myra asked, knowing the answer.
“Yes. But how did you know?” Rachel looked surprised.
“It’s a favorite of mine.” Myra relaxed and gave Rachel a real hug.
“Me too. I got it when Simone took me shopping. There was something special about it. I can’t really explain it.”
“No need.” Charles put his arm around Myra and gave her a squeeze. “Woo-woo, indeed.”
Chapter Thirty-six
When the yachts returned to Golden Shores Marina, a swarm of FBI and DEA agents greeted them. Charles and Fergus took the lead.
“I suppose you gentlemen wish to secure these lovely vessels?”
“We do indeed.” One of the men was wearing a jacket with FBI emblazoned on it. Another agent wearing a DEA windbreaker approached them.
“Give us a moment to gather our belongings, and they’re both yours.” Fergus grinned.
“Yes, they are.” Both agents answered at once, giving each other a possessive look.
“Good luck to you, mates!” Fergus wheeled one of the dollies carrying the luggage, and Charles wheeled the other.
The government officials wanted to question the women, but Myra and Annie stood between the agents and the women.
“They need to be seen by doctors. They are all in shock. Give them some space, and we’ll help arrange for interviews.”
The agents began to protest, but Myra and Annie weren’t budging. Fergus and Charles shot the agents a look that said, “Don’t even think about it.” Myra and Annie took the agents’ business cards and promised to be in touch as soon as the girls were checked out by physicians.
Two large passenger vans waited at the end of the dock. They divided themselves up and climbed in. The chatter of the women was delightful. It was obvious that they were beginning to accept the fact that they were no longer sex slaves and were back in the US.
Annie arranged for a few extra rooms at the Biltmore until they could find permanent housing for the girls. Jobs, too.
Given the circumstances the women had been forced to live under, they, too, had a bond.
The girls were taken to a highly regarded gynecologist and a trauma counselor. Physically, they were okay. It was the mental stuff that would take a while. The trauma counselor gave each of them her recommendations for therapy, both private and group. They all promised to comply.